


The Last Thing On My Mind

by FantasiaV



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dramatic Irony, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasiaV/pseuds/FantasiaV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.<br/>Person B is Gilbert. Person A is Roderich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

Gilbert’s vision blurs. Faces and lights all blend into one another as he sways and grips the wall for support. Suddenly his head hurts and throbs as if something is gnawing on the back of his brain. There’s a ringing in his ears that won’t stop. He feels so light weight and dizzy he has to lean against the wall to stop himself from crumbling to the floor. It hurts. Everything hurts.

He looks down and there it is: the shredded skin and shining scarlet. There’s so much blood. Why is there so much blood?

The man… The man in the alley way is gone now, gone with his knife and Gilbert’s wallet. He’s gone and now Gilbert is alone, gripping the cold and grimy walls as his head pounds on relentlessly. He’s been robbed not only of what spare change lay in his wallets, but of his life.

This seems like it’s it. He’s forgotten what it meant to be mortal, to be stabbed and unable to shake away pain. Had he been a nation, there wouldn’t be nearly as much blood. Hell, he would have stopped bleeding altogether by now. He wouldn’t be reduced to his knees, groaning and cursing in pain. He would be colliding his fist soundly against the mugger’s temple and then he would return home where Ludwig would scold him for taking such a stupid shortcut.

But Gilbert hasn’t stopped bleeding. Blood continues to spill from the slash wound. It right through soaks his clothes and the loose shirt fabric clings tightly to his skin. The Prussian has always been an optimist, but even he can see the end as it draws near.

His pale fingers shake as they dip into his jacket pocket and they can’t stop shaking no matter how much he begs them to. At least that damn mugger hasn’t taken his phone…

With a shuddering breath, he goes for speed dial. He misses the button twice.

“Gilbert? What the hell do you want?” It’s Roderich. Roderich with his soft, sweet voice that was probably a gift from angels. Gilbert knows that he’s the nation of music, but how the hell is it possible to make the simplest speech sound like the sweetest of symphonies? He may never find out.

With his dizzying vision becoming more and more useless by the minute, Gilbert closes his eyes. He can practically see the Austrian, readying himself for bed and just about to turn off the lights before the phone had rung. He can see the frown lines emerging and the scowl on soft lips.

“What’s the matter? I can’t just call to say hi?” He laughs and allows himself to fall back against the wall. He hits the ground with a soft thud, his head hitting against stone. But he still laughs. That much he can do, even in this state.

“Not when it’s almost midnight.” Roderich sighs. Then there’s the faint rustling of linen and bed sheets. “What was that noise just now?”

“Dunno, it’s a little loud where I am.” Gilbert lies through his teeth. He doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t want the other to know. Perhaps it’s to cling onto whatever self-worth he has left, perhaps it’s because he doesn’t want Roderich to worry. Whatever the reason, he lies. 

“And where exactly are you at midnight?”

“Apparently not with you.” It’s meant to be a sassy, sarcastic retort. But it comes out a little sad, desperate even. What Gilbert would give to be next to Roderich, to hold him close and cuddle him to sleep. It definitely beat lying in a pool of his own blood in an abandoned alleyway. There was no warmth, only cold night winds.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Roderich phrases his words as if the retort were sassy or sarcastic. But his tones conveys something more. Concern? Worry?

Gilbert dismisses the thought. He’s hoping for too much.

“Seriously, where are you?” Roderich persists. One thing Gilbert has always admired about him was his stubborness. "Go to sleep already.“

"Nah, I don’t feel like it.” He doesn’t mention that he has this nagging feeling that if he does get any sort of sleep, it will be his last. The sleep he will get tonight, will be the eternal sleep that one can never awake from. He feels fainter and fainter already. His breathing grows ragged as his time dwindles.

“Hey, remember when I was your knight?” Gilbert surprises himself with the question.

“Please don’t tell me that you called me this late to reminisce.”

“No, no hear me out.” Gilbert has a plan. Or at least, he thinks he does. “I used to wait outside your room, keep watch over the area as you fell asleep – ”

“Mein Gott! Are you outside my room now!” The Austrian sounds flustered. There’s the sound of even more sheets rustling, the click of a lock and turning of a door knob. Damn it, even when Gilbert tries to be comforting and sweet, he’s not.

“Aw, were you expecting me? Didn’t know you took late night visitors Roddy, kesese–ow!” He’s cut off by his own grunt of pain. Laughing hurts. It strains his stomach muscles and worsens the flow of blood. The pain is so great that he snaps his eyes open. The world spins before him – and by “the world”, he means the dank and gloomy alley.

“I-Is everything okay? Gilbert!?” Roderich is panicked, his voice high and his breath short.

Gilbert takes a shaky breath and slowly exhales. He counts to three and tries to regain some composure the way he has watched Roderich do so many times.

“Gilbert!? Say something–Scheisse, just tell me where you are.”

“Huh? Oh right, sorry…” He stifles another groan of pain and switches the phone from one hand to another. The second hand is smeared with gravel and blood that needs to be wiped off first. “I’m at a club and this arschloch just stepped on my toes.”

“…That’s quite a quiet club you’re at.” Roderich is too smart. He sees through the lie immediately, unfortunately for Gilbert.

“Kesese, you thought I was at a night club? Nope, I’m at a … a beer club. Sampling all this beer with these awesome guys I found. You should come with me next time.” The lie works because there will never be a next time. And if there is a beer club, one of Gilbert’s biggest regrets is that he has never found it. What a pity. Of course he’ll have to live with an even bigger regret if he doesn’t finish this phone call.

“No, I think I’ll pass.”

“Right, right, you’re too prissy for beer…” Gilbert takes another deep breath. He nearly chokes as blood spills from his lips and dribbles down his chin. He’s running out of time. If this phone call is ever going to end, he needs to cut to the chase, immediately.

The words barely come out at first, but once they start, they can’t stop.

“You’re too prissy and perfect, and before I lose the courage, I’m going to come right out and say I love you for it.”

There’s silence on the other end. Silence and static. Gilbert can only think about what Roderich must be doing. Is he shocked? Is he upset that someone as uncouth as Gilbert could ever like him? Or is he ecstatic because he feels the same way?

When the answer finally comes, Gilbert is devastated.

“I… I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Maybe.”

He’s hurt, now emotionally as well as physically, but refuses to show it. He is, after all, the strong knight in shining armor. The knight who would take hit after hit, but never fall – at least appearance-wise. He also doesn’t have time to mope in his sorrows of rejection. Even if his confession was met with eager acceptance, he wouldn’t have had time to celebrate. Nothing can save him now.

“But I also really really love you.” Gilbert continues as if Roderich hasn’t shot him down. He continues because if he doesn’t, then there will be no point in hanging onto life. He made this call for one reason only and that reason will be fulfilled. “I’ve always loved you and I don’t know why it took so long to realize it and why it took even longer to tell you. I love sneaking into your house and messing with you because even if you’re scolding me, you’re at least noticing me. Why else would you notice me? You’re so damn perfect and probably out of my league. You’re beautiful, flawless, and I don’t know why I love someone I’d never have a chance with, but I do.”

“Wh-what? Gilbert are you…?” Roderich stutters blankly and Gilbert just knows that he has no idea what to say. He is proven right when Roderich stops trying to think of a response altogether and says “Gilbert just go home.”

“Not until you acknowledge my feelings for you.” He tries to make it a joke, his voice hollowly echoing the tone he’d often use after taking the Austrian’s glasses and demanding sweets in exchange for their safe return. It’s funny… Back then, he never thought this day would come. As inevitable as it was.

“Gilbert I–”

“Okay fine, you don’t have to say it out loud. I just… I just want you to know. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.” His pain triples, quadruples, and it forces him to throw his head into his hands. He’s a mess – a bloody and quietly screaming mess. The convulsions sent his phone flying somewhere, somewhere Gilbert can barely see. His vision is clouding, darkening, and fizzing out like an old television screen.

But he needs to finish the call. He needs to let Roderich, sweet precious Roderich, know that he’s done. And so he falls onto his knees, grimacing when his palms are cut on shards of glass and pieces of gravel. He feels his way around the floor, which is now wet with his blood, until cool metal finally scrapes against his fingertips. He has found the phone.

Gilbert scrambles with it desperately. Everything is a struggle now. Picking up the phone, holding it, pressing it against his ear. It all hurts, but it’s all necessary.

“Gilbert… is something happening?” Roderich is terrified and Gilbert has never heard his voice like this before.

“Oops sorry, dropped my phone.”

“I… I thought I heard you–”

“Screaming? That wasn’t me.” He sighs. This really is it. He honestly can’t keep the charade up much longer and is forced to withdraw. It’s either that or let the Austrian know that he’s dying. “Well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time. Sleep well prinzessin, sleep well…”

Before Roderich can respond, he hits end call. The Austrian’s picture flashes briefly on screen and Gilbert smiles. He may never get the chance to caress that soft face or run his hands through that silken hair, but at least the owner of said features knows that he’d like to.

And with that comforting thought, Gilbert Beilschmidt, former representative of Prussia, dies alone in an alleyway.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> encouraged by my darling friend prussiens from tumblr  
> tl;dr I like to make my friends cry ^-^

The line goes dead and Roderich finds himself listening to the hum of the disconnected phone with wide eyes. What… What just happened?

He’s known Gilbert for years. He knows when Gilbert is lying or when he wants to hide something. And right now his Gilbert-radar is going off the charts.

But so is his heart – as cheesy as it sounds.

Damn that Prussian for calling him so late to confess his love. And damn him a second time for hanging up so quickly. But then Roderich supposed he probably should have said something. Anything. Instead he just sat there, phone pressing harder and harder against his ear. He didn’t know what to expect from the Prussian, but it certainly wasn’t a “sleep well” and hang up.

He wanted to sleep before, but now he can’t. Now he wide eyed and suddenly afraid, but he doesn’t know what of.

He hits the call back button. The response is incessant ringing that drones on and on until it is finally cut off by a goofy voice message:

“Hey there! You’ve reached the super cool Gilbert Beilschmidt. Sucks, but he’s not here right now so just tell me – Gilbird – what you need to tell him. Right after the chirp. Here we go – beeeeep!”

Roderich remembers the day Gilbert set up that silly voice message. It was the day they met. The day Gilbird ran away, Roderich managed to catch him, and the day they fought over a single umbrella as rain struck down like bullets. Roderich told him that he was stupid for pretending to be Gilbird because no bird spoke in such insipid shrills. And even if there was some poor bird that did, it would never say those things. Gilbert laughed and some sort of… relationship, for lack of a better word, bloomed.

It was silly, but Roderich didn’t want that relationship to end. He wanted Gilbert in his life no matter how aggravating he seemed to be.

He doesn’t know what that message meant. But for some reason he feels like it threatens their relationship. There’s something about the message that feels off and it makes him sick.

He has listened to the voice message six times now. Clearly something is wrong because Gilbert is still not picking up. Frantically, Roderich calls up Ludwig, Gilbert’s older brother, who thankfully picks up after the second ring.

“L-Ludwig. Do you know where Gilbert is?” He hates how grief-stricken his voice sounds. He’s panicking and it’s so painfully obvious.

“Is something wrong?”

“Just tell me where Gilbert is.”

There’s a sigh on the other end and Roderich finds himself listening intensely.

“I think he said he was going out to drink?”

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?” Roderich’s eyes dart to the little clock he keeps on his besides. He didn’t realize that he spent this much time calling and calling Gilbert’s unresponsive cell. “It’s past midnight!”

“Sometimes he stays the night with a friend.” Ludwig doesn’t seem all that worried.Gilbert disappearing for a few hours and coming home the next day with some horrible hangover has become a bit of a norm.

“Which friend?”

“Roderich…” Ludwig is clearly tired. “Why are you asking all of these questions? What’s going on between you two?”

The Austrian pauses, but at last spits out the truth. “He left me a weird message.”

“A weird message?”

“He called me some time back. And… I don’t know, it just wasn’t like him. He’s not himself and I… I’m worried.”

Another sigh comes from the other end. “Just wait until morning. It’ll be fine.”

Roderich nods, forgetting that it’s a phone call and that the action goes unseen.

“Roderich?”

“Y-Yes. Okay, call me back tomorrow morning.”

“…Sleep well.”

“You too.”

The call ends and Roderich finds himself staring at the buzzing phone receiver. He feels as if he is being eaten alive by worry, terror, apprehension… But all of that is pointless now. Ludwig’s right, as always.

Come morning, and Gilbert will be back – laughing and smiling and back to his cheery self.

Come morning…


End file.
